Mafia
by Alexandria the Great
Summary: Our G-guys and girls are spies, assasins, and the general scum of society. But when the world is handed to them, there is no silver platter...
1. Lady Relena

Mafia

Chapter One

Lady Relena

Being a hot young celebrity isn't easy for anyone. Why should it be easier for Relena? It should be harder. It has to be harder. Otherwise, there would be no real point to narrating with a strong voice, excellent diction, and/or brute honesty, when necessary.

That would make a fine introduction in my autobiography, Relena decided, closing tight her Louis Vitton file folder. She slid the cap onto her calligraphy pen and ink well and tossed them in, blindly trusting them not to tar and feather the introduction to her autobiography. She batted her heavy, sweet-smelling quilt aside and jumped down to the deep, lustrous carpet, sinking her soft, well-kept feet into the dozens of upward reaching spirals. Clasping her file folder underneath her arm, she reached under her bed and dragged a black safe from behind the floral bed-skirt. She placed her fingers on the lock. The safe made a few tiny noises as it read her prints and accepted her secret code. Of all the things in the world, keeping a diary was her chosen covert operation. She had a few friends, no confidants, and one person she felt she could trust: herself. A hard knock shuttered her authentic French door. She looked laxly to it.

"I'm awake, Péggin," she said. The old man entered and looked around.

"Lady Relena, I've been sent to tell you that your new ensemble has been placed—"

"Bottom level of my closet in front of the full length mirrors. I know, Péggin."

Old Péggin smiled sweetly. "Breakfast this morning is fresh fruit, hot cereal, and eggs. We'll be waiting for you."

"You know better," Relena returned with a half-smile. Péggin smiled sweetly again and closed her door. Relena sighed and pushed her safe back underneath her bed. Her personal butler had never seen it; this time her pink CK original gown hid it. She tossed her bed together and entered her Italian marble bathroom.

A shower, tooth-brushing, and perfume application later, she entered her closet and found her new ensemble. A slinky brown Louis Vitton dress with frills lining a plunging neckline, and matching frills around her lower thigh, where the dress ended. Her back was out, and she felt sexy as she posed this way and that in front of her three mirrors. She blew herself a kiss and skipped down to her vanity room, going out her French door and closing it gently.

She stopped at a mirror with a knob and turned the knob. Relena's vanity room was shaped like a beauty stand. The wall opposite the door was a huge, heart shaped mirror with pink trim and pinker light bulbs on top of that trim. The majority of the room was propped up on a stage-sized version of the desk itself, bureau-sized drawers held Relena's beauty essentials. She hopped up the stage into her stylist's arms.

"Good morning Nancy!"

"Good Morning Lady Relena! You're in a feisty mood today, aren't you?"

"Just have lots to do today, and I want to start the day off right."

"That's a fantastic attitude to have. You're better than I am. When I have a long day ahead, I usually get all tired and groggy just thinking about it!" Nancy guided Relena's hair this way and that. "What's on your agenda today, anyway?"

"Photo shoot first thing, lunch with Daddy, shopping for my new clothes, shopping for something for Mother, perfume commercial rehearsal, and a meeting with Max Factor."

"Good God, woman!" Nancy exclaimed, "and I thought I was busy today!"

"What about you?"

"Well, I have to head out to get you another butt load of hair and make up stuff, then People Magazine wants an interview. And listen to this, Relena: they only have fifteen minutes to squeeze me in, and the title of the article is "How We Managed to catch up to Relena Darlian's Stylist! You won't believe the deep secrets she shares!"

Relena laughed. "They crack me up. They're such idiots, all of them. Creative, but stupid idiots. I wonder how much truth there is to that last article they wrote about that hunk Quatre Winner?"

"Doesn't matter. I'd fuck him anyway, just to be real."

Relena laughed hysterically. "Oh, I'm shocked and offended!"

"Shut-up. You'd fuck him, too."

Relena nodded seriously. Nancy smiled and chuckled. Nancy laid down a bottle of spray and a comb and quickly painted up Relena's eyes and smile. She then put down those tools and spun the chair around so Relena could see herself in the wall.

"Thanks a boodle!" Relena said to Nancy's reflection, smiling charismatically and jumping up. Her shoes and handbag waited patiently beside her styling chair, waiting for their mistress. She took them both up, slipping into her shoes, and hustled down stairs.

Her breakfast patrol (as she called them) waited at the table for her behind several tasty-looking dishes. Péggin, her agent Freud, her governess Murielle, and her Chihuahua Teddy all looked at her and smiled. Then Freud disappeared behind his paper, Murielle started talking on her cellular satellite phone, Teddy stared pigging out, and Péggin said his grace. Relena prayed with Péggin and began to nibble on her fruit. Murielle jabbered on and on to her cousin in Ontario about some nasty old man that flipped her skirt recently. Freud ignored the world in favor of both Nasdaq and Nascar. Relena didn't really care for them in the least. There was nothing really wrong with them, except that she found them inhumanely dull. Péggin was a slight exception, but a man of his years could only do so much to keep Relena happy. She was proud of his decision to recruit Nancy, and orphan Relena's age that Relena could talk to, for the simple purpose of Relena's not feeling alone in her own house. The girl just happened to be a hair and make up whiz, so she found herself a job. Nancy and Péggin were two of Relena's only friends, with that Romefeller girl Dorothy rounding out the list. Her lack of friends never bothered her. She had far greater things to worry about.

After the usual dull breakfast, Relena escaped the paparazzi to a huge photo studio downtown from where she lived. The place wasn't anything pretty or special, and her breakfast patrol was nearby, noisy, quiet, and old. She spent an eternity in hair and make up (ruining her style from Nancy) for three outfits. She admitted to herself that the proofs were very good, whoever this guy was, even without the digital touch-ups. She especially liked the black leather suit and motorcycle. She breathed a sigh of relief when no one asked her why she was so comfortable in such a dark outfit.

She might as well have had lunch with the table itself. Her father didn't say anything meaningful or important. He just asked absentmindedly about school and how she's handling being famous and if there are any young male friends she's interested in now and blah, blah, blah. This was the very reason Relena was ecstatic when her father bought her a house for her eighteenth birthday. She'd taken good care of it for it first two years, and was proud of herself. The Vice Foreign Minister's daughter should have the finest everything, he'd told her mother, who first feared for her daughter's safety. Relena didn't live alone because of her mother. Her mother was the only person in history she'd ever cared to please, and now she didn't even care about that anymore. But when she did care, she called up Murielle, her governess since birth, her agent Freud, her dear Péggin, of course, and her live-in stylist, a good friend. She wished she'd had lunch with Nancy. Then they could talk about fucking Quatre Winner. These boring lunches were her father's lame attempt to keep them in a father-daughter relationship. Her mother would have been a good medium, at least.

Shopping was Relena's only pleasure that day, and she savored its four hours' brevity. The perfume commercial was run by a bunch of idiots who hadn't even bothered calling in a lighting specialist, and it ended with Relena politely ripping her contract in about forty thousand separate pieces. With the exception of talking to Nancy and shopping, the whole day had been a royal pain in the ass, so much so, Relena didn't even go to the Max Factor meeting. They called seven times (seven _desperate_ times), but to no avail. Relena took a short, dreamless nap. When she woke up, it was time to get ready for work.

Lady Relena Darlian had been an espionage agent since she was seventeen. Behind her three-way mirror, protected by voice-activated password, were her work clothes: a black leather body suit with matching boots. She had also a matching backpack that could survive a trip to the hot side of Mercury, the cold side of Pluto, and remain submerged in water for two hundred years without leaking in one drop. Her suit was quite high tech and held a variety of different functions, most importantly having the same versatility as her back pack, a heating system, a cooling system, a hood to cover every inch of her head and shatter-proof goggles, the ability to filter through smoke and noxious vapors, and convert water to breathable air. It was truly a thing of beauty for such an important member of the crime world. Janelle Radnor was the name she chose to be called while on duty, and her loyalty existed nowhere. Within her pack was important information needing to be delivered to her employer, as well as a large jar of chewable nutrient pills that could sustain a large man for one or one and a half years. When Relena was fully dressed, she peeked out of her French door. No one was around. The house was eight o'clock dark. Murielle could be heard in the main living room, still talking her cousin's ear off, and the swish of a newspaper's page turning could be heard over Péggin's 'sit' and 'stay' commands. Relena crept across the hall as quickly as she could in her cushioned heels to her vanity room. She slipped through the door and closed it quietly. She turned to the mirror.

"Nancy!" she cried.

Nancy laid a hand over her heart. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I didn't know you were going out tonight."

"You know I go out every night, girl."

"Yeah, I know. Be careful."

"I will. I know you've got my back."

Nancy nodded and opened one of the drawers at the stage, pulling it completely out. A control panel stood where the drawer was. Nancy switched this and pushed that and typed in her own code. The wall-sized mirror flipped around to the side. In its place was a momentous switch board and three gigantic screens. Nancy took a seat at the switchboard and typed in her access code, then the starting code.

"Online." The three screens flashed on, the middle one after a burble. Relena slapped on her watch and typed in her access code. Her face appeared on the middle screen.

"Online."

The right screen became a map of Relena's house, and two green dots were across from her room. The country, state/province, city, address, and level of the building were listed in the far right corner of the screen.

"Tracking system, online and functional." Nancy said.

The left screen flashed into a bar graph with a text background.

"Vitals and information, online and functional." Nancy confirmed. "We're good to go."

"Excellent. I'm off." Relena said, pushing a red button on her watch. The screen with Relena's face flashed to a set of high bushes below the window in Relena's room. Her motorcycle was ejected from the ground. Nancy stood up and hugged her.

"See ya."

"Hope so."

Relena about-faced and left the vanity room. She snuck back across to her room and locked the door behind her. Nancy would know if she was alive or not if she didn't return by morning, and she didn't want anyone barging into her room at all hours (whether she was there asleep or not), crying out "Oh, no! Relena! RELENA! Where are you? Answer! Call the press!" and so on. She opened the window, swung one leg out, then the other, closing the window behind her, and pushed herself down. She landed on a soft spot of sunken ground on her feet and peeked up, taking a quick look around, then mounting her ride.

Nancy watched her shoot out and away from a hidden hole in the hedges and out of view. Relena's vital signs, taken by her suit, flashed back up on the left screen, and the right screen melted into a map of the state and pinpointed Relena's position. The middle screen showed the passing scenery. There was a shift in the middle screen. Relena set the armband communicator on a special holder on the bike. Nancy got ready.

"Preparing to engage Flying Eagle Mode."

"All systems are go."

Relena's bike swerved this way and that until she reached a wide clearing. Wings grew slowly from either side. Relena clenched her inner thigh and abdominal muscles and brought her knees to her chest as the cockpit grew around her. Her handlebars folded down the middle and formed a joystick. Relena took hold of the driving tool and pulled it back. The small flyer left the ground, and the wheels contracted.

She only flew for about forty-five minutes before she needed to land. The motion sensors on the bottom of the craft caught the rushing ground and lowered the hidden all-terrain wheels. The landing was as smooth and graceful as a motorcycle-mini-jet-snow mobile's landing could be, and Relena unfolded herself from the cockpit position.

"Preparing to engage Cheetah Mode."

"All systems are go."

The wings contracted as the cockpit melted from around her. Relena replaced her armband communicator on her wrist and divided her joystick into handlebars. She was going to have to get Noin to fix that to be automatic.

"Okay, Navigator, how are we?"

"Twelve miles northeast. You can hop the freeway, then take Ferry Bend."

"Roger."

Relena took her suggestion, veering out of the clearing into a small forest, then to a highway. She came upon the residence of destination in no time flat, parking outside of huge iron gates. She switched channels on her communicator to call her employer's private line. The line rang twice.

"Hello?"

"Sylvia, it's Janelle. I'm coming in."

"Do you want me to open the gates?"

"Don't worry. I can get in, thanks." Relena was still the daughter of an official. No need to be rude to anyone outside the family, especially someone she'd grown to like. Relena punched in a locking code into her communicator for her bike, and it took off elsewhere to hide. She checked her ammunition and proceeded to climb over the gates.

The moon wasn't out, and neither was her hair, so she was completely invisible to the few guards sprinkled here and there at Noventa House. Relena sprinted across the lawn, dodging the reach of the security lights, and powered around the side of the house. She was happy to see a trail of vines that led up to Sylvia's room, and took advantage of them. She pulled herself up to the open window, and did a half-flip in.

Sylvia lifted her head as if there was nothing unusual about an espionage agent jumping through her window. She sat at her desk near the door, scribbling on some document. She smiled at Relena.

"Got it?"

"Of course. I wouldn't show up without it."

"Fabulous." Sylvia stood and met Relena half way to her desk. Relena jogged her pack down from her shoulder and opened the flap. She extracted a thin manila folder and placed it in Sylvia's hands. Sylvia Noventa opened it and scanned over the offered information. She nodded in approval as she scanned over it.

"Exactly what I asked for. Not one thing missing. You did a fabulous job." Sylvia closed the folder and turned her back to Relena to lay the folder on her desk and collect Relena's money. "Please, sit, have some tea."

"No, thanks, I don't want to stay for too long. I have some other work to do tonight." Relena refused politely. Sylvia smiled.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say that you and I are in the same league. You speak so well, and are polite. I do hope I'll need another favor from you. You're a pleasure to work with."

Relena sighed, and smiled. She let out her hair. Sylvia's face dropped.

"I know you!"

"Yes, I'm Relena Darlian."

"My God!" Sylvia put down her tea and held her face in amazement. "You ARE in my league! But why?"

"I don't know. I'm just tired of being rich and famous and allegedly care-free. I want to work."

"That was an interesting career choice." Sylvia chuckled. Relena smiled. Sylvia sighed. "I envy you. What a luxury to be able to go out, have an adventure, and such a scandalous secret."

"Hey, I said I wanted to work. I'm working now. It's a blast sometimes, but Sylvia, I'm an espionage agent. Every time I touch a computer, my life is on the line."

Sylvia bit her lip. "That didn't immediately occur to me."

Relena shook her head. "Don't be sympathetic. I don't regret this life. I'm making my way in the world…or rather, the underworld."

They shared a smile. A sudden parade of exploding bullets stunned them both. It came from some other part of the house, but it sounded loud and clear as it would have if it had been just down the hall.

"What the hell…" Sylvia moved toward the door, but Relena stopped her. The look in Relena's eyes made Sylvia want to run away.

"Sylvia," Relena finally said, holding a semi automatic in her hand, "do you know how to use this?"

"Pull the trigger?"

"Good enough. Take this and hide under your desk." Sylvia positioned herself underneath the desk. The gunshots paraded on, closer now. Relena slid Sylvia's chair partially under to provide Sylvia with an extra layer of protection. "Look, don't be scared, and for God's sake, don't scream. Lock the door behind me. When, or if I come back, I'll knock three, turn the handle twice, and knock four times. Knock three, handle two, knock four. Got it?"

Sylvia nodded, truly fearful now. "Why are you helping me?"

Relena smiled warmly, though it seemed meaningless in the foreground of gunshots. "You're one of the few that's just been nice to me just to be nice. You know, instead of wanting to sleep with me or kill me."

Sylvia smiled nervously, and Relena whirled around and out the door. Sylvia bolted up to lock it.

"Sylvia!"

Relena's voice surprised her. "What?"

"Turn the lights out! Hide now!"

Sylvia obeyed, and was under her desk, behind her chair, in a dark room, shivering and holding tight to Relena's semi automatic.

Relena looked up and down the hall. There weren't very many lights on, and this old house echoed the gunshots from all over. Relena unbelted a gun identical to the one she'd given Sylvia, and raced down the hall as quietly as she could. She debated internally whether to injure whoever this was, simply lead him away by letting him chase her, call the police, or get into a fight with him, steal his own gun, and kill him with it. She could pull that off; her gloves didn't leave prints. She reached the end of the hall, which turned out to be the middle of another hall, and proceeded to race down that one to the left, clearing her mind just a bit. She decided to see if she could scare whoever it was away, and resort to gunfire only if they refused to leave. She groaned at the thought of firing a gun. She hated guns. She hated knives. If the world were her oyster, it would be a peaceful oyster. She wasn't by any measure a conformist, and her family strived to be different from the rest of the world. But something about finally being on her own, doing what the hell she wanted to do…she could deal with guns and knives and violence.

This hall was somewhat more lit than the last, and she felt insecure about staying in this light. She saw the switch ahead of her, and reached for it. A servant ran past the mouth of the hallway, surprising Relena, and was brutally gunned down. Relena dropped her peaceable plan. Whoever this was would not be frightened away with a little semi, and was carrying an automatic rifle. Relena flattened herself against the wall, covering herself in shadows. She could hear slow, bold footsteps approaching. Relena gripped the handle of her weapon and waited for the perpetrator to reveal himself.

Like a snake the gun-wielding intruder crept into view, immediately aiming the mouth of the rifle down the hall in reasonable paranoia, totally missing Relena, and aimed it back to his walking path. _This is impossible,_ Relena decided, _I'm just going to have to do him in._ Relena raised her semi to level with the black mask and pulled the trigger.

The intruder must have heard the click just in time, and just in time to be grazed on the side of his head, he whirled around and de-gunned Relena, who promptly kicked his gun with everything her leg had. The rifle spun around, clocking the intruder in his jaw, and fell to the floor. The intruder dove at Relena, who tucked and rolled and went for the lower back, but was dodged. He threw three punches, Relena blocked them, faked a crotch blow, and dealt him a vicious uppercut to his nose. The intruder groaned, heaving his fist at Relena's stomach. Relena mistakenly used both hands to guard, and was hit on the cheek. The intruder followed up with three more immediate impacts to the side of her face, and took a skip back. Relena shook her head and cautiously stepped to her enemy, both of her arms ready to offend and defend. The intruder gritted his teeth.

"Move, woman. This doesn't concern you."

"You're in my employer's house two days before I collect my wages. It concerns me."

"If you value living, you'd best collect your wages before I collect your life."

"Oh, my, any more threats and I'll have to consider the possibility of you having actual balls!"

The intruder threw a quick one, and Relena dodged, knuckling his throat. His surprise prevented him from blocking a kick to the ribs, then one to the side of his head. He jumped up and back, but not before Relena grabbed hold of his mask. He cried out, but landed, and was exposed.

"Gah!" he cried out, shielding his face with the back of his hand. He crouched into ready position with the other hand.

Relena, however, did not immediately prepare herself. She had mistakenly looked into his eyes, and was entranced. She'd never in her life hoped to see such orbs. The color was unreal, wild, new. They themselves were a shrewd annexation of his body, but they were more his thoughts and secrets than his strength. His tangled tuft of chocolate brown mane swished and washed over his exotic, deadly eyes. Everything about him was so pristinely savage.

"What are you gawking at?" he demanded with a gesture, sacrificing his glove-mask.

"I…uh…" Relena was at a loss. His handsomeness was way off of any conceivable scale. Devilishly handsome, obviously dangerous, athletic, strong, and hopefully single…

"Relena Darlian," he muttered, taming his eyes for one second. Relena gasped, remembering that her hair was out. The handsome young man stood to his own height. "What in the seven circles of hell is Relena Darlian doing here, defending the Noventas?"

"That's none of your business."

The young man smirked. "I know you rich girls have your wild streaks, but I think this is a new record: Body guarding."

Police sirens caught both attentions, and they looked to the stairs. Relena looked back to the intruder.

"Did you kill everyone?"

The intruder didn't answer, just looked at her like the answer should be obvious.

"Why?"

"It's what I do." Some part of that statement was sadness, or discontentment. He turned to go down a hallway.

"Wait! The cops are coming from that way!"

The intruder stopped, looked half way over his shoulder, and said, "I'm covered." He picked up his rifle. "You, however, might need to be on your way."

Official-sounding voices bounced around the bottom of the nearby stairs. The intruder sank into the voices and flashing lights below. Relena stood there for a moment, still holding the great-looking man's mask. The pat of feet rushing toward her brought her back down to earth, and she powered back to Sylvia's room, performing the knock-turn combination. The door was snatched open.

"Oh, thank God!" Sylvia cried. Relena came right in and closed the door. "You called the police?"

"No, but I really must be going. I don't need to be caught."

"I'm sorry I put you in danger."

"Don't you worry about it. I volunteered."

"How are my folks?"

Relena didn't answer. She looked down and sighed. Sylvia trembled.

"You mean…somebody killed them? All of them?"

Relena nodded somberly. Sylvia looked down. Relena hugged her.

"I'm so sorry. I'll catch that bastard, and I'll do him in."

Sylvia nodded in Relena's embrace. The door shuddered.

"Anyone in there? This is the police! We're coming in!"

Relena dropped her hold on Sylvia and ran to throw herself out the window, her last hair out of sight as the door swing open.

"Miss Noventa! Are you injured? Anyone else in here?"

Sylvia was the only one that heard a motorcycle start, and zoom off.

Inside Cheetah Mode, Relena's heart beat passionately. That assassin-guy, the god-damned good-looking thing, was playing in her eyes. His bestial handsomeness dug itself in her mind, and she smiled. _God, he was fine!_ _He even put Quatre Winner to shame! God-damn! God-DAMN! He was ridiculous! I didn't know they even came that fucking fine!_

"Relena!" Nancy's voice shook Relena's concentrated infatuation. Her insistence wasn't minimal. "What the hell is going on? Why haven't you confirmed to engage?"

"Nancy," Relena responded, "You will not believe this. I think I've found the father of my seventeen children."

"Oh, God, please don't tell me he was a Noventa. They're politicians, for God's sake. They don't know how to keep it in one bed."

"Nope, I'm positive he wasn't a Noventa, seeing as he was going through wiping them out."

"Say what?"

"Check the footage."

"Processing."

Relena waited a few minutes. After those few minutes, she heard a disembodied, "Holy shit, forget Quatre Winner!"

A/N: Hey y'all! I've returned with some more shizz-nit for you to read and review, so please do! Arigato!

Let me go on and say this: This story is not about Relena and her career as a spy. What is going on now (and will be going on for the next several chapters) is the backdrop for all of the parties involved. The couples are non-yaoi, the usual 1R, 2H, 3C, 4D, and 5M for this story. Thank you to everyone that reviewed _Urbania_, and I seriously promise to get the prequel _Fireball_ out soon. Also, review _02_. Come on, y'all! I worked hard on that one ;;


	2. Duo and Hilde's Very Important Romance

Mafia

Chapter Two

Duo and Hilde's Very Important Romance

Let's begin with Duo Laurence Maxwell. Duo was born into a middle-class family in Colony AAA-76; more commonly called 'The Third American Colony.' His father, who was a preacher, and his mother, who was a bar tender, raised him. Though his parents loved each other, as well as him, dearly, their constant bickering shook the foundation of their happiness. Duo ran away from home and was taken in by a rich businessman and his wife. Mrs. Rich Businessman, however, was a former prostitute, and Mr. Rich Businessman didn't seem to understand that you weren't supposed to make love to any woman besides your wife. Duo had walked in on his new father several times when he was with one mistress, or the other, depending on what day it was. After so many times, it no longer fazed him, and Mr. Rich Businessman spoke to him about it, refuting any importance it would later have on his young son.

Mrs. Rich Businessman always encouraged Duo to stay in school and get an education so that he would not have to live like a pimp to support himself. Duo was unmotivated, however, and breezed in and out of school. He found cocaine and marijuana more interesting. When the Businessmen confronted him for his continual absence, they bribed him with a car to remain between those four academic walls. It worked for a time, but Duo dropped out of high school completely when he turned eighteen, the summer before his senior year. Mr. Rich Businessman had told him that he'd been written into his multi-million dollar will, and his wife as well. If either of them died, the other would inherit the unattended fortune.

Duo had been left his father's estate, most of his money, all of his stocks, bonds, and twenty of his thirty cars. Everything else (which, compared to Duo's inheritance, wasn't much) was left to Mrs. Rich Businessman. Mrs. Rich Businessman seized the opportunity when it wandered by and murdered Mr. Rich Businessman in his sleep. Duo hadn't experienced anything this emotionally trying since his constantly arguing former parents, and ran away. Years of buying marijuana and cocaine had yielded him several connections to various dangerous people, several of which volunteered to knock his foster mother off, a possibility that had been basking in the back of his mind. He selected a few and invited them to sleep over. The assassins killed Mrs. Rich Businessman in her sleep, and locked the door to her room.

Duo was immediately apprehended, but when he produced an 'out of the house' alibi, as well as 'credible witnesses,' he and everyone involved were off the hook. Mrs. Rich Businessman's death would remain a mystery for a long time to come.

With Mr. and Mrs. Rich Businessman's murders, Duo was surprised to find himself deeply depressed and hopelessly addicted to marijuana, occasionally taking hits of crystal methane. He was proud not to be an alcoholic, but along with his overall mood, his inheritance was also slipping away. With much hesitation, he took the front seat in what his Mr. Rich Businessman left for him to build on, acting on told secrets and eavesdropper's luck.

In two years, Duo was worth twice as much as Mr. Rich Businessman had been and stopped taking crystal methane entirely. He was rather fond of his marijuana, so he kept it, sold it, and shipped it out around the colonies and a little on Earth. Now that the real world knew him, he began to dig deeper into the world that he'd scraped the surface of as a troubled teenager.

Duo was not a virgin. He couldn't even clearly remember his first. He'd been drunk the majority of the time, anyway, so it didn't matter. When Duo moved to Colony L6-22D, he became a regular in a poor, run down district dominated by gang members, prostitutes, bums, and stray animals. The cleanest place on that side of the city was Run Lola Run, a high-tech gentlemen's club. One of their star dancers was Duo's favorite dancer, and she called herself Felicia Scarlet.

Now let's hear the story of Ingrid Brunhilda Schbeiker. She liked best to be called Hilde, and was born to Communist Loyalists in Colony MC-J12. Hilde was kidnapped as a toddler and taken to Colony TYF-30 where she was raised by a man and woman of high-ranking military status. They home-schooled her, taught her to build her body and improve her discipline, and sent her to dance classes, clear attempts to keep her out of trouble. Hilde had natural physical endurance abilities, and was animate in her training variety for several years. She was having a fairly happy life, and was content.

When Hilde was twelve, both of her parents were invited to speak at a ceremony for war veterans, and they gladly accepted the invitation. Hilde was allowed to come after much begging and pleading. Unfortunately, it was a trap, and conspirators assassinated both of Hilde's parents, and made an attempt on Hilde herself. She got away, only to be swept up by them two days later in her own bedroom. Hilde put up an unexpected fight, and was knocked unconscious. She was taken by shuttle to an undisclosed location, and there she stayed, with the assassins that killed her parents, for five long years.

Those five years were not idle ones. Children at and around her age were living in a sort of boot camp; only this had nothing to do with serving your colony. It was a five-year intensive training program for a new generation of spies. An elite group of former military officials that had been banished from Earth for war crimes believed sincerely in the day the Earth and Colonies would war for supremacy in outer space. The best way to attain useful information would be through young adults—they could legally go anywhere they pleased, but were assumed not to know about the way the world works. Rigorous Martial Arts were crucial to their overall training, and geographical and language skills were a priority. They were taught about guns and all other sorts of ammunition they would be assigned, and put on a protein diet.

Hilde completed her training and was sent on several practice runs in other colonies. In most cases, everything that could go wrong was made to go wrong. Several times she would have lost her life if it had been the real thing, but she was a mistress of the dark by her eighteenth. She spent the next two years of her life in Colony L6-22D, working as a stripper in a low-class district of the colony, her dance skills finally earning their keep. She chose the name Felicia Scarlet in remembrance of her favorite childhood fairytale. It was just over the two years she'd been dancing at Run Lola Run when she first noticed a decent-looking man in the middle of the room keeping a close watch on her. It was nothing unusual, but he looked strangely fascinated with her, and she seldom found his eyes below her own.

Now, their first encounter. Since it was a weeknight, Hilde was looking forward to not having to deal with the usual riotous bachelors and dirty old men, or at least, not a whole stampede of them. Thursday nights especially she found relaxing enough to prepare her for the Friday night madhouse. And Thursday nights she got to tablehop. She enjoyed it because it was the best opportunity for tips. Ass-pinching cost (the price depending on the size of the red mark), lap-sittings cost, lap dances cost, and a ten percent gratitude charge was added onto every drink for the waitresses. It was just a fun job to do.

The largest crowd was ten around nine o'clock, and Hilde already had over seven hundred dollars under her belt…garter belt that is…including the hidden drink fees. Everything was going well that night, no fights or illegal gropes on the dancers yet, and the manager, Mr. Culvert, was very happy in his office. Hilde served a round of an expensive Scotch to three gentlemen and they gave her twenty dollars' tip. She smiled sexily at all three of them and slipped the bill into her bra. They whistled and howled at her reaction (Like animals, she thought disgustedly), and she left them for another table. As she was breezing by, a strong hand startled her by tugging her French Maid ensemble frills.

"Oh!" she cried, whirling around. That decent young man that was fascinated by her smiled innocently.

"Why ain't ya dancin'? I came to see ya dance."

"I don't dance Thursdays, unless you want a private dance."

The innocent smiled flashed sinfully. "I'd like that very much."

Hilde smiled her compliance and left to tell Madame X to cover her tables. Then she smiled sweetly at Duo and beckoned him into a private room, switching the sign from 'EMPTY' to 'OCCUPIED.'

Hilde turned on some music she'd recently rehearsed to and Duo flopped down on the red couch in the mediocre light. She offered him a tiny glimpse at what lay at the top of her thighs, quickly diverting his eyes down, and rolled down from side to side, breathing hard to exemplify her cleavage. She placed her hands on his knees and shimmied with an ending roll.

"What's your name?" he asked suddenly. Hilde didn't show how surprised she was.

"Felicia Scarlet. I'd think a regular like you would know."

"That ain't your real name."

"Nope." Hilde turned to the pole, grasping it with a flex of abdominal power and calf control to lift herself up and upside down, holding tight with her legs while she shed her uniform.

"You're good. I like your dancing. All the other girls suck."

"They have huge boobs. That's why they're still here."

"Yours ain't so bad, either."

Hilde held on the pole again, flipping herself back right, putting her back to the pole, and squatting down sensuously. Something about the way he said it distracted her. She rolled up, trying to effectively roll his comment off of her shoulders, but failing with every second she found him looking in her eyes, not her lace panties. He was giving her a weird, frightening feeling.

"My name's Duo. Duo Maxwell." Hilde halfway expected him to want to shake her hand. She slowed down a bit. If he was going to gaze that hard, she'd give it right back. She cat-walked over to him and stood over him with one knee on either side. She rolled over him, touching their foreheads, and coming eye-to-eye. Once eye-to-eye, his gaze significantly softened, and he looked pained, if nothing else.

"Duo Maxwell? _The_ Duo Maxwell?"

"In the flesh."

Hilde rolled back, touching her head to her toes, and made her flat, strong stomach wave. Duo glanced down at it, and stole a glance at her panties, but waited for her to come back up and look at him. When she did, he could tell he'd distracted her again. Her eyes always shifted and glimmered in the light of a nearby candle when he distracted her.

"What's your name?"

"I told you. Felicia Scarlet."

"Mm."

The song went off. Hilde sighed and stood to change the music. Duo took her hand, standing up.

"You can stop now. I'll be back tomorrow night to see you dance." He placed two five hundred dollar bills in her hands and closed them. "How much for champagne?"

"Fifty for the Kendall-Chardonnay, one hundred for the Crystal, two hundred for the Jean Chateau…" Hilde trailed off when she realized what an enchanting shade of blue Duo Maxwell's eyes were.

"Do you like champagne?" he asked in a kind, low voice.

"I do, in small doses."

"Would you like some next Thursday?" He gently squeezed her hand. His eyes had not strayed from her royal gaze, imploring her to do the same.

"I would."

Duo smiled and kissed her hand. "Thanks for the great show."

Hilde remembered she was in underwear and felt like a foolish slut. She didn't lose composure.

"No problem. I can schedule you if you want."

"I'd like that. Write me in for eight o'clock."

"Gotcha."

"Have a good night, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight."

Duo reluctantly released her hand, slipping out of the door.

Now, their second encounter. The Thursday after Duo finally got to see Hilde dance for everyone in the room, he came in a few minutes early and took a seat near the cat walk-stage. Hilde spotted him in a heartbeat, and her heart, for some reason, was glad to see him. He looked so handsome. He was wearing a tux. The possibility that he could be two-timing some poor, innocent girl tickled her brain, but she set it aside. That wasn't her concern. She was the stripper.

Once they were inside their own room, Duo cleared his name:

"My friend just got married. I'm not in relationship right now."

Hilde could smell the lack of need for the last bit of information, but sighed with relief. "I don't like dancing for married men. I feel like the other woman."

Duo looked surprised.

Hilde blushed. "I didn't mean to just blurt that out."

"No, it's fine, I'm glad to know you're not a slut like your coworkers."

Hilde smiled. "Pamela Anderson's not a slut like my coworkers."

Duo laughed. "I'd say she's pretty innocent compared to them."

Hilde nodded frankly. She turned on her music. Her dance was slow.

Duo tried to be quiet so as not to distract her. But it was hard to resist that cute glimmer.

"You like this job?"

There it was. "It's alright. It has its moments. A lot of uppity people look at it as sacrificing your dignity, but I'm not a prostitute."

Duo's expression winced just a bit, but relaxed. Hilde danced on, unabated.

"You're really strong, ain't ya?"

Hilde smiled. "You noticed?"

"How couldn't I? Those're the nicest abs I've ever seen on a cute girl."

That comment definitely threw her for a loop. She stopped dancing to look at him.

"Don't tell me you didn't know you were cute!"

Hilde smiled modestly (in her underwear). "I've never felt very attractive. I thought about joining the army."

"You'd be an invaluable asset. You're strong. And smart, I see."

Hilde didn't start dancing again. Duo gave her a wave. "Why don't you sit down and rest for a minute."

"I can't—"

"It's my money, and I say you can sit as long as you like."

"I bet you do this with all the girls here."

"You bet?"

"Yeah."

"Care to make a wager?" Duo smiled, rubbing his middle and index fingers against his thumb.

"Like…"

"Ask around. If I do, then I pay you next Thursday for two sessions. If not, then you let me take you out."

Hilde saw where this was going. She blushed and smiled.

"What?" Duo asked with a warm smile.

"Lemme just save you a lot of time, and a lot of trouble. Yes, I'll go out with you. When?"

"Saturday night."

Hilde extended her hand. "Deal."

Duo shook it. "Deal. I'll pick you up here at five o'clock." Hilde smiled modestly again. God, this Maxwell guy is cute, but don't let your guard down, he's rich and young, therefore a player. Hilde sighed in spite of him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She smiled again. "See you tomorrow."

Now, their actual romance. Duo picked Hilde up at five o'clock on the dot, as promised. She had actually bothered asking a few of her coworkers about him, but, being the busy girls they were, they didn't recall even seeing him, except for Miss Year-Round, who served him several drinks on several occasions, but he was always to pre-occupied with watching his Felicia Scarlet. Duo had on a black silk button down shirt that read 'Giorgio' on one sleeve and 'Armani' on the other, and black slacks dotted with 'G.A.' Hilde chose a black evening dress and inch-high pumps, no brand name given. Duo smiled his warm, handsome smile. "Ready for action?"

"You bet."

Duo took her to the theater to see a play called 'Judgment Day,' and both thoroughly enjoyed it. After that was LaBamba, and exquisite Mexican Restaurant where Duo was well recognized. It was a sort of an old-fashioned place, small, a dozen or so tables surrounding a dance floor at the attention of a Mariachi Band. Wine sips, dinner, dessert, and coffee later, the two laughed and joked about politics, Hilde's customers, Hilde's manager, Duo's friends, Duo's business partners, and Colony life.

"…and you'll never believe _this_, Felicia!" Duo whined through a laugh.

"Hilde."

Duo's laugh slowed. "What?"

"Hilde. Hilde Schbeiker. That's my real name."

Duo smiled his warm smile. "I promise you just get cuter as the days go by."

"You ain't so bad yourself."

"That's my line!"

They both giggled and toasted once more. Duo looked at the growing crowd on the dance floor. He stood, extending a hand. Hilde was enchanted. He was going to say those magical words, 'May I have this dance…?'

Duo pulled her to her feet and grasped her to him. "If you tell me you don't dance, that will qualify as the dumbest lie in the colony."

Hilde smiled her utter content. They danced the salsa and ballroom salsa until the restaurant was ready to close. And when it did close, this was _the_ Duo Maxwell that was still circling in euphoric rhythm with his lovely date, so the bus boys cleaned and Duo and Hilde danced. They waltzed to ballads in Spanish and swung to jazzier tunes. Hilde was looking deep into his eyes, his absorbing, deep, cobalt eyes, and he returned her entrancing royal globes, her gentle evening stare.

Duo requested one more song, just for the night, one last love ballad. Hilde held his hand and shoulder, laying her head on him contentedly, and Duo held her hand and lower torso, sighing and closing his eyes, completely taken by her scent and soft skin. His fingers suddenly began to hold her harder, not hurting her in the least, but demanding her attention.

"I want you to come with me. I can't explain why. I just…want you by my side."

Hilde didn't say anything. She shone that irresistible glimmer, but it was surrounded by a bewildered expression. She still didn't speak. The night was suddenly cold.

The next day, Hilde arrived at work early for two reasons: to help get ready for a huge bachelor party and to get paid overtime for it. Mr. Culvert wasn't in just yet, and nobody would start anything until he showed up. Hilde sat opposite her closet coworker, Strawberry, loosely engaged in some trivial gossip. When she noticed Strawberry's attention wandering, Hilde followed her friend's gaze. Duo was coming at both of them. He stopped and looked at Strawberry.

"Would you excuse us, please?"

Strawberry nodded and stepped aside. Duo sat down next to Hilde. Hilde didn't look at him.

"I can't go with you."

"Why not?"

"Duo, you wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

Hilde stood up. "You're not the first to offer to take me away to the best existence I'll ever know. It's happened before, and every time I fall for it, I get hurt. I'm tired of hurting. I'm tired of being used. I won't do it again."

"No, you won't, not with me."

"That's been said. It was just another lie. _He_ was just another lie." Duo stood up, inches away from her.

"Did _he _take you out to his favorite spot in town?"

"…no…"

"Did _he _insist you take a break and have some champagne without trying to seduce you?"

"…no…"

"Did _he_ look you in the eye and tell you that you were beautiful?"

"…no, and neither have you."

Duo looked her straight in the eye with his fascinated, deep look. "Why would I waste my time if I didn't think you were beautiful?"

Tears fidgeted in Hilde's eyes. "I can't…"

"Look, I was never much for talking to girls, but I was always told that if I tell the real truth, then I might succeed. And I can't hardly find the words to describe how I feel about you, Hilde. That's the truth. All I know is that you hold my heart in your hands," Hilde's tears swelled higher, "and if I could have you by my side, I really would be the luckiest man alive…ever."

"Duo—"

"You know I'd die for you, right?"

"Duo."

"Yes?"

Hilde smiled. "I need to get my things."

Duo smiled. Hilde slid her arms about his neck and he held her close and their lips were quenched.


End file.
